ully conscious that she was to
be asked to give him an answer--she whose answer had been given many
times--the Girl stood at the bar in an attitude of amused expectancy,
and fussing with things there. At length, Rance, glancing shyly over his
shoulder to make sure that they were alone, became all at once grave and
his voice fell soft and almost caressingly.

"Say, Girl!"

The young woman addressed stole a look at him from under her lashes, all
the while smiling a wise, little smile to herself, but not a word did
she vouchsafe in reply.

Again Rance called to her over his shoulder:

"I say, Girl!"

The Girl took up a glass and began to polish it. At last she deigned to
favour him with "Hm?" which, apparently, he did not hear, for again a
silence fell upon them. Finally, unable to bear the suspense any longer,
the Sheriff threw down his cards on the table, and facing her he said:

"Say, Girl, will you marry me?"

"Nope," returned the Girl with a saucy toss of the head.

Rance rose and strode over to the bar. Looking fixedly at her with his
steely grey eyes he demanded the reason.

"'Cause you got a wife in Noo Orleans--or so the mountain breezes say,"
was her ready answer.

Rance gave no sign of having heard her. Throwing away the cigar he was
smoking he asked in the most nonchalant manner:

"Give me some of them cigars--my kind."

Reaching for a box behind her the Girl placed it before him.

"Them's your kind, Jack."

From an inside pocket of his broadcloth coat Rance took out an elaborate
cigar-case, filled it slowly, leaving out one cigar which he placed
between his lips. When he had this one going satisfactorily he rested
both elbows on the edge of the bar, and said bluntly:

"I'm stuck on you."

The Girl's lips parted a little mockingly.

"Thank you."

Rance puffed away for a moment or two in silence, and then with sudden
determination he went on:

"I'm going to marry you."

"Think so?" questioned the Girl, drawing herself up proudly. And while
Rance proceeded to relight his cigar, it having gone out, she plumped
both elbows on the bar and looked him straight in the eye, and
announced: "They ain't a man here goin' to marry me."

The scene had precisely the appearance of a struggle between two
powerful wills. How long they would have remained with elbows almost
touching and looking into each other's eyes it is difficult to
determine; but an interruption came in the person of the barkeeper,